


Worth Your Wild

by RosemarysBabysitter (TashaElizabeth)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Dominance, Fin Dom, Financial Domination, Financial Issues, M/M, Money, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9788702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashaElizabeth/pseuds/RosemarysBabysitter
Summary: Give me. That’s the part Seth would remember afterward. Not lend me or can I borrow. Not a question at all. A demand.





	

“Hey, man,” Dean said. “Give me five dollars.”

They were at a gas station in Iowa having stopped to stretch their legs and Dean approached him out of nowhere with a big gulp cup of some improbably colored liquid and a handful of blow pops in his other hand.

Give me. That’s the part Seth would remember afterward. Not lend me or can I borrow. Not a question at all. A demand. Give me five dollars. It made Seth feel his heartbeat in his face and hear it in his ears. 

“What?” he said, mostly to cover for time.

“I can’t find my wallet,” Dean explained, which made sense. Dean was always slightly fuzzy on the location of his wallet as he was with his cell phone, hotel card, backstage pass and occasionally his pants. He lifted the drink and dangled it before Seth’s face. “Give me five dollars.”

Seth didn’t have a five but he had a ten.

“That’ll do,” Dean said and snatched it from him, taking it to the counter to add a boxed slice of pizza to his snack stash. He pocketed the change too.

Seth found himself mouthing along the curve of Dean’s neck while he ate the pizza, running his hands up and down Dean’s thighs while he crowded close to him in the backseat of the rental car. And hey, that happened, just not usually during the day. Not usually sober or sweet and sticky tasting with candy on Dean’s lips. And not ever because the crinkle and clink of Dean’s pocket under Seth’s hand made him gasp. That money in there the change from the ten Dean had taken, just taken, from him.

“Would you knock it off,” Roman said, glancing over his shoulder to change lanes. “At least wait until the hotel.”

The hotel. Another dive, with big rigs in the parking lot and a swingset in the empty swimming pool. Roman checked them in and Dean wandered off to look at the tacky disaster that was the hotel gift shop. Cheap plastic shot glasses and super flammable stuffed animals and stale popcorn in a kaleidoscope of colors. And there amongst the tie dye and the airbrushed white tigers was a collection of bootlegged college merch, including a dark blue t-shirt boasting a provocatively dressed bee and the moniker, “AMBROSE GIRLS ARE EASY.”

“I mean, I need that t-shirt right?” Dean asked, holding it at arm's length so that they could both admire it. He thumped a hand against Seth’s chest. “Buy me this t-shirt.”

And, of course, the hotel store was just ridiculously expensive, thirty two dollars for some cheap silk screening on a plain cotton tee but something about the way he just demanded it had Seth reaching for his wallet faster than he could say, “it’s hideous.”

“I know!” Dean said gleefully.

Seth was on top of him twice that night and would have tried for a third if Roman hadn’t groaned from the next bed and instructed them both to “go to sleep before I make you go to sleep.”

“You okay?” Dean slurred into his ear as he was staking claim on Seth’s half of the mattress. “You didn’t try that goat weed stuff they sell in the truck stop bathrooms, did you?”

“I’m fine,” Seth said, as though his heart wasn’t hammering in his chest.

In the morning, Dean found his wallet in his gym bag. 

“Fweh,” Dean said, grinning. “I was starting to worry I left it in Indiana.”

“Yeah,” Seth agreed, not liking the regret in his voice. Not liking the way he thought about it for two weeks, the idea sparking into his mind every time Dean went for his pants pocket to grab a bite to eat or buy his share of the gas. Drifting to it when he reached for Dean in bed, more often now, almost every night. Thinking about it in the shower too and spending too much time in there with the hot water beating down on him, trying to replicate the flush in his skin when Dean had smacked him on the chest. Buy me this. Give me that. No, he didn’t like it.

He especially didn’t like it when finally, closing his eyes and holding his breath, he stole Dean’s wallet out of his jeans during a house show and hid it deep in his coat pocket.

They went out after the show, some joint by the arena. Roman, Seth and Dean together, sliding into an empty spot at the polished wooden bar. Dean took off for a moment to find the bathroom, missed the first round and Seth took the opportunity to swallow half of a local microbrew before Roman got his ass on a stool.

“You okay?” he asked, giving Seth a concerned look. “You’ve been...acting a little funny lately.”

“I’m fine.”

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“We were wondering,” Roman went on, carefully. “Maybe you’ve changed your regimen?” He was speaking low, pitching his voice to nonchalance in a careful, meditated way. Seth blinked at him, then rolled his eyes. Jesus, Roman thought he was taking T.

“I’m really fine,” he said and turned from him, only to catch sight of Dean making his way back and spinning around again. Dean touched Seth’s shoulder, slid up next to him to the bar and ordered something in a bottle.

“Hey,” Dean said, going through his pockets a few times with a look of confusion on his face. “I think I lost…”

Seth’s muscles tensed and then he, tragically, took a drink and fumbled the moment when it really mattered. Dean turned to Roman instead, elbowed him in the side. “Buy me a beer,” he directed.

“No!” Seth said, scandalized and put his glass down too hard on the bartop, spraying foam over his knuckles.

Dean and Roman both raised an eyebrow at him. “I can have a beer,” Dean said, insulted.

“But I…” Seth swallowed. There wasn't a good explanation for this. 

Roman was eyeing him, letting concern bleed through his manufactured calm. 

“I'm going to have a look around,” Seth said. He rose lamely from the stool and tried to disappear into the crowd, but the place just wasn’t quite crowded enough. There were a lot people from work there, buying each other drinks and making small talk, but most were too tired to make it a raucous party. The locals were cute enough, but mellow, focused on their deep fried appetizers and their two for one hotdogs.

Seth put his back against an opposite wall and watched Dean and Roman talk animatedly at the bar. Seth saw Roman shrug, making a motion that said ‘he said he’s fine’ and Dean exclaimed something back to him fiercely in opposition. Roman shook his head and Dean rolled his eyes, catching sight of Seth. Seth looked away guiltily.

Someone changed the music, cranking it louder and lowering the lights. There would be dancing now. Sweet girls wanting to bob and sway with each of them, dig their nails into Seth’s shoulders and remark on the size of Dean’s muscles. A band of them clustered around Roman’s tattoo, while Roman tried to remember he was married. It had happened a hundred times before but suddenly, this time, it seemed exhausting.

Lost in thought, Dean flanked him, sidling up next to him and handing over Seth’s mostly empty beer glass. Dean had a bottle in his other hand, a quizzical expression on his face. Seth accepted the beer in his left hand, sighed, reached for his inner pocket with his right.

“Here’s your wallet,” Seth said, passing it over.

Dean squinted in confusion. “You wanted to pay for my drink?” He didn’t sound angry at least, merely baffled. Seth could deal with him like that. Moving between confusion and serene acceptance seemed to be Dean’s perpetual state of being. Dean shook his head. “You could have just offered.”

“I didn’t…” Seth sighed. “That wasn’t the fun.”

“So it’s like a game?”

“No!” Seth could tell he was blushing, across his cheeks and down his chest beneath t-shirt. He finished the beer and looked for somewhere to set down the glass. “I won’t do it again, okay. Forget it.”

Dean wasn’t forgetting it. “Does this have something to do with you being all shifty?”

“I’m not being shifty.” There wasn’t anywhere to set down the glass. Seth stooped and put it on the floor. Deliberately not noticing the length of Dean’s legs in his jeans as he rose from a crouch. Dean was nodding. 

“You are. Weird and shifty and, like, super horny…” Dean cocked an eyebrow and considered him.

Seth worked very hard to keep his face neutral, his eyes steady, his jaw unclenched. Dean’s gaze focused on him, came to some realization.

“Give me a hundred dollars,” Dean said.

Something churned in Seth’s stomach and he cringed into the feeling, heat flooding into his temples and his mouth going dry. “Why?” he asked.

“Give it to me.” Dean smiled, like he was piecing it together from the stutter in Seth’s voice. “Give me 100 dollars.” He pushed at Seth’s shoulder, shoving him back on his heels. “I want it and you don’t deserve it.”

Seth didn’t have a hundred dollars in his wallet, he had forty. Dean followed him to the bar’s squat little ATM to get the rest, the machine spitting it out straight into Dean’s hand. 

“I made that money,” Seth managed to say as Dean was folding it away. His mouth was sticky dry and his dick was getting hard. “I worked for it.”

“Yeah, well it's mine now.” Dean grinned at him. Then he went to the bar and bought everyone but Seth a shot of Jack Daniels. That livened the place up considerably.

He did it again the next week but not in some bar, backstage in a hallway too close to the locker room for comfort. He eased Seth up against a wall and demanded it.

“Two hundred bucks.”

Seth had it that time. He’d sort of been carrying more cash these days, touching the increased thickness of his wallet whenever he saw Dean lick his lips or hitch up the hem of his shirt. He got the money out right away and handed it over. Dean took it, shoved it into a pocket. Didn’t even count it, like it was nothing. Didn’t thank him. God, didn’t even think to thank him.

“What do I get?” Seth asked.

“You get to jerk off all sweet and whimpery pressed up tight against my legs.”

“For two hundred bucks?”

Dean swung his head in low, close to Seth’s ear. “You don’t get it for the money. You get it because I’m letting you have it. You’re giving me the money because you’re giving it to me. Because you know you don’t deserve it.”

Seth came all over the front of Dean’s jeans and Dean had to clamp a hand over Seth’s mouth to keep him quiet.

They played a game that night, after Seth paid out extra for Roman to get his own room. Dean sent him to the ATM on the corner and had him get out a thick stack. Then Dean sat on his lap and kissed him for twenty dollar bills. Long kisses with teeth scraping his lips and Dean’s mouth sucking on his tongue so hard he couldn’t think. Could only keep handing over twenties until the stack was gone and he panicked. Panicked because that he couldn’t remember how much money that was and panicked because it meant Dean was going to stop kissing him.

“Please,” he moaned, grabbing for Dean’s body and whining when Dean’s weight shifted off his aching cock. “Please, don’t go. Don’t go yet. Wait. I’ll write you a check.”

Dean got up on his own feet but stooped, hands on the chair’s arms to put his face close to Seth’s cheek. Seth was sweating all over, the roots of his hair frizzing and he was shaking, just a little bit, face hot and so, so hard.

“You’ll what?” Dean purred with that same false assurity guys put on in the ring. “I didn’t hear that.”

“I’ll write you a check. Let me write you a check.”

Dean licked the side of Seth’s face. “Get your checkbook.”

Seth didn’t even have one of those, who needed a checkbook anymore, but he kept some blank checks in the back of his passport and he got one out and flattened it on the table, fumbled for a hotel pen. Dean was close behind him, not quite touching him, but heavy and hot as his back, taking up all the air when Seth tried to breathe.

Seth filled in the date and then stopped, pen poised on the pay to the order of line. He couldn’t put Dean Ambrose, right? His brain was fuzzy and his blood was pounding too hard for him to think. It wasn’t Dean, it was Jon something, something from way back before they fell into their lives.

“Make it to cash,” Dean said, firmly.

Seth wrote the word cash. He paused again on the amount. Dean put his fingers over Seth’s other hand where it lay curled up on the table.

Seth swiftly wrote out an amount. Three thousand dollars and zero cents. 3000.00 He’d wanted to write five and nearly wrote two, but gave in at the last moment when Dean’s hot breath hit the back of his right ear. Then he signed it. 

“Put what it's for,” Dean insisted.

Seth moved his pen to the memo line and scribbled out, “because I don’t deserve it.” 

Dean snatched the check out of his hand and crumpled it into the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t jerk off tonight,” he said briskly, striding away from him and slamming the door as he left. Seth went over to the bed and lay down on it, all alone and at least three thousand dollars poorer.

He sweated and shook for a while and then finally tried to sleep with his dick rock hard and begging for attention between his legs and all the hotel blankets piled on top of him. He had funny, almost lucid dreams about Dean and the money and the things Dean would spend it on.

The thing that drove him nuts was that Dean didn’t even really spend money. He didn’t really like the things that took a lot of money to get and was usually happy with cheap beer and watching movies on hotel cable and sleeping in the airport lounge instead of forking up the cash for a eight hour room nearby. Dean wore five dollar sunglasses and had to be forcibly removed from his complimentary branded gym t-shirts for interviews. So Seth’s money, when it got spent, would go to crap.

Fidget toys. Things that lit up. Those funny lighters for sale at the cash registers of cheap diners. Pizzas, which Dean would only eat two slices of and then march around offering to other people. Stuff getting sold at the side of the road: smuggled oranges and fireworks and fantasy blades. Candy, which he would eat four pieces of and then leave on the arm of a sofa. Excessive waitress tips. Other people’s bar tabs.

He might, Seth thought as he rolled over, he might even be spending it on girls. Tossing cash into the tip jars of cute baristas, giving them a wink while he took his coffee. Rounds of jello shots for a girls night out he stumbled upon. Even, god, even tucking twenties into the waistbands of strippers, putting them folded lengthwise in his mouth so that the girl had to lean in close, breasts heaving in Dean’s face and carefully accept the bills in her white, perfect teeth.

There was a noise in the hallway and then the door unlocked. 

Seth groggily tried to sit up but Dean was already on him, petting him through the blankets and then shoving underneath them to pet him again. Dean’s skin was cold, like he’d been outside. He could have been doing anything. He probably was doing anything.

“Shh, I’ve got it handled,” Dean said into his sweaty ear and then fucked him sweet and deep. Lots of lube and sloppy kisses. One hand around Seth’s cock while Seth squirmed and Dean’s arms big and solid around him. Seth came sobbing.

They played that game twice a week for six months.

Seth had to get a checkbook, than another one and wasn’t that a pain in the ass. He had to raise the daily withdrawal limit on his atm card too. He’d tried to get a new credit card but Dean didn’t like that.

“I’ve got a fucking credit card,” Dean told him. “I don’t want Visa’s money. I want yours.”

When they were doing it Seth felt so good, felt so real and solid and right. He slept good at first, wrung out and relaxed under Dean’s body. Then he’d wake up in the middle of the night panicked, wanting to throw up and lurching into the bathroom to pull his hair and pinch his eyes to keep from crying. He’d agonize about how much he was giving away and how he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Don't worry about it,” Dean told him when he spotted the tension in his shoulders, the fear tearing up his eyes. He’d hold him close and wait for him to relax and Seth did, for a while. 

They played a game where Seth had to cover the bed with bills, mostly tens and twenties, but some hundreds too for fun. Then he got to pump his cock until he came and whatever he dripped come on, that’s what he got to keep. Dean kept the rest. 

They played a game Dean called hybrid poker. Five card stud and every time Seth lost he had to pay up twice whatever he had paid before. When he won, Dean took an article of clothing off. They played until Dean was naked and Seth was broke and aching to touch him so badly he tore one of the arms off the hotel chair.

“You and Dean are getting awful close,” Roman said one morning as Seth went to collect him for the drive to the stadium. Roman had started getting his own room on the regular and Seth didn’t know if Roman was paying for it or if Dean was or if he was with the money he gave Dean. 

“That’s good,” Roman went on, kindly. “I’m happy for you two.”

Seth choked back a laugh. Last night, they’d played a game where he gave Dean a fifty dollar bill for every scar he could find on Dean’s body and then lathed the surrounding skin wet with his tongue. It couldn’t go on.

“I want something more,” Seth told Dean that night, kissing him when he came in the door. “I want to push it.”

“You trust me right?” Dean’s hands were heavy on his shoulders.

Seth trusted Dean with every inch of his body and ounce of his weight. He trusted Dean to have his back and to fight his fight. But he also trusted Dean to be Dean.

Dean had bought new boots last week. Nice once, leather, to the tune of several hundred dollars and when Seth imagined him getting them, he made the sales girl the prettiest, perkiest little thing imaginable and the money his crumpled fifty dollar bills.

“I want to push it,” Seth said simply and squeezed Dean’s arms.

Dean went out into the hallway long enough for Seth to wonder if he’d left the hotel entirely, found a bar somewhere and started ordering champagne for any girl who knew who Gorgeous George was. 

Dean burst through the door a few minutes later, Seth jumping off the end of the bed at his appearance. He was looking mad, that carefully composed mania he used in the ring. He had a baseball bat dangling in his right hand.

“Where are you, you little shit?!” he growled. There was a painful twinge to his voice, the one he didn’t really use anymore because it ‘made it difficult for the audience to identify with you.’ Dean spotted him in an instant, between the bed and the wall and jumped for him, slamming his body against the room’s outside wall, the bat holding Seth across the chest. “There you are. Give it to me.”

Dean’s body was hard and strong against him and Seth, for all his movement training and definition, felt woefully outgunned. His face was so hot, his eyes were going glassy and he could feel his mind pulling away from the situation, settling into some other mode of operation where his line of sight cut down and his thought processes slowed.

“I’ll give you whatever I can,” Seth said, and he knew it was true. “Please, I’ll give you everything. We don’t have to have any trouble.”

Dean hooked the bat around the back of Seth’s neck and tugged him forward, manhandling him over to the desk. He stripped off Seth’s shirt on the way, exposing his chest to the air conditioning and tweaking his nipples when they didn’t jump to attention fast enough. His checkbook was already out and ready. Dean bent him over the desk, using the bat on his shoulder blades to make him bend. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean drawled. “Don’t want any trouble, you little bitch? I know what you want.” He pawed at Seth’s fly and peeled down his pants in a single fluid motion, raised a hand to slap at his ass. “Got yourself all worked open already?” he asked, pressing a thumb against Seth’s hole.

Seth whined in agreement.

“Whore,” Dean said. “Little pay pig. Spread your legs.”

Seth did. Dean put a pen in Seth’s hand. 

“Write it out. You know how this goes. Give it to me.”

“To cash?”

Dean swapped his thumb for the first two fingers of his hand and eased them into Seth’s body. The lube Seth had applied before was starting to dry and Dean spat into his hand to work him slick again. The bat was still pressing on his shoulder blades.

“You think I want a paper trail from you to me?” he asked. “You think I want anyone to know about my sick little cash cow? Do it. Twenty grand.”

Seth’s vision greyed and he didn’t know if it was the figure Dean quoted or his fingers against Seth’s prostate.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Dean crooked his fingers. “Don’t play stupid.” His mouth was very suddenly very close to Seth’s ear. “Gimmie the money.”

Seth wrote the check, nearly blind with pleasure. He was expecting Dean to grab it up off the table and leave. Instead he went dizzy when Dean dropped the bat, turned him by the elbow and pushed him back against desk, up onto the desk top, smearing frantic kisses up and down Seth’s jaw. He wrenched Seth’s legs wide, tore off his own shirt and got his jeans unbuckled far enough to take out his dick. Seth took it good, legs wrapped around Dean’s waist and shifting back and forth on the table with each of Dean’s frantic, thrusting motions. He was flying. 

Dean picked him up under his ass and lifted him straight up, not stopping the pop and grind of his hips, not stopping the slide of his dick into Seth’s body. Seth couldn’t grip him, had to lean back to stay stable and the angle made his movements deep and sweet like Seth wanted it. Dean was dripping sweat, pink in the face and gnawing at his own bottom lip. He changed his grip on Seth and turning, slammed his back into the wall. Seth groaned.

His skin stuck to the hotel wallpaper and he ground more than slid against the wall but Dean was still pounding into him, nipping his mouth with every thrust and getting a taste of his lips every third or fourth time he darted for them. Seth’s cock was getting pressed between their stomachs, rubbing wet on Dean’s abs.

“Give it,” Dean was saying, low and deep in the bottom of his throat. “You’ll give it.”

Seth nodded, grabbing Dean behind the neck and digging in with his short fingernails. 

“You’ll give it,” Dean repeated.

“Everything,” Seth managed and then Dean was pressing into him long and hard and coming with a noise so good it made Seth come too.

Dean let him down slowly, blinking his eyes to clear his vision. Seth got his feet underneath him and felt his head swim, panic thundering in his ears and keeping his heart from slowing. Dean was still panting, leaning hard against the wall with one hand over Seth’s shoulder. “God,” he said. “Goddamn.”

He reached a hand for Seth’s neck and Seth dodged it, pulling away. Seth was breathing heavy, his pupils wide. He backpedaled, putting a hand on his chest and pressing against his heartbeat. 

“Seth?”

He couldn’t breath. Couldn’t think. He looked at Dean and wanted to bury his face in Dean’s stomach and kiss his skin and beg and pledge every dollar he had to Dean’s happiness. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t ever going to be enough.

Seth scrambled for the bathroom and slammed the door.

“Seth?!” Dean said, raising his voice. There was care and tension in tone but Seth shook his head. That couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be real. “Seth, open the door!” Seth’s back hit the cool wall of the shower and he slid down it, dropping down naked on the floor.

A crack made him jump and the bathroom door popped open, Dean having broken the lock with the baseball bat’s blunt end. Seth hated the spasm of pleasure that hit him. Guess who’s going to end up paying for that.

Dean dropped the bat on the floor and it rang dully. He hastened to Seth, dragging a large bathroom towel off the rack and laying it over Seth’s shoulders, trying to rub off the sweat and rub in the warmth of his friction.

“Look, look,” Dean insisted and Seth peeked up to see Dean holding the check he’d just written and tearing it into little pieces. “It’s gone. Okay, it's gone. I’m sorry. Too far.”

“No,” Seth said. “It’s not your fault. I’m…” Seth hiccuped and put hand to his forehead. “I’m fucked up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean put a hand on Seth’s thigh. “I've told you not to worry about it. “

Seth felt sick. “I have to worry about it.” Saying it made it real. All the air that had been slowly wheezing out of Seth’s lungs seemed to vanish at once. His chest hurt. His shoulders twitched and tensed painfully.

“You don’t,” Dean insisted. “I've got it handled, okay? Just have fun.”

Seth swallowed. “It’s bad, Dean. I’m messed up, okay. I’m not playing right now.”

“You’re fine.”

“No!” Seth insisted. “I’m not fine. I’m not.” He was shaking his head. “I can’t stop. I can’t even bring myself to look at my bank account these days.” Seth shuddered. “I can pay my bills right now. Maybe. I haven’t defaulted yet but if I get hurt I’m sunk. If I can’t work...I…” He took a deep breath. “What if I only have a few years of this? I didn’t have enough to retire before and now…”

“Stop.” Dean said simply. 

Seth shook his head. “You can’t just have fun now and worry about it later. You’ve got a future too. You could get hurt. I know we're not supposed to talk about it but you could. We both could have to retire tomorrow. They aren’t going to make you and I GMs, Dean. There isn’t an old wrestlers retirement home. God...what? Are you going to lend me back the money the rest of my life? When I’m eighty? What if Shield breaks up?”

“Shield's not going to break up. And stop worrying. I keep telling you, I’ve got it handled.” 

Seth got angry for a moment. “Stop saying that,” he said, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “What does that even mean?”

Dean sighed, like he was disappointed but also like he was just a little proud. “Are you okay for a second?” he asked.

Seth nodded and Dean scrambled to his feet and went out to the bedroom, coming back with a backpack and wrenching open the zipper. There were a multitude of papers inside. He withdrew a thick envelope and presented it to Seth. The thing looked weighty and serious. It had Seth’s legal name on it and Dean’s address in Las Vegas.

Seth withdrew a bundle of papers from the already opened envelope and paged through them. They were full of spreadsheets and percentage points and things compounded into other things and then contracted into impossible acronyms. Seth couldn’t understand a word of it except for the box at the bottom that said projected total.

Seth didn’t know how much money he’d given Dean over the past six months but it hadn’t been this much. It hadn’t been anywhere near this much.

“You invested my money?” Seth said. He looked up at Dean with his mouth hanging open.

“Everybody always acts like money’s so hard. Money’s not hard.” Dean considered the matter for a moment with a distant expression. “Twitter is hard.”

“So you bought, like…” Seth blanked, struggling to decipher the papers before him. “Like...bonds?”

“A little. Mostly high growth stock and real estate. With the profits going into a trust, so you can’t ever play this game for real, sorry. Oh, and I topped off your 401k.”

“I have a 401k?” Seth put the papers down. Dean gave him an incredulous look.

“Dude,” Dean said simply.

He grabbed for Dean, caught the solid weight of Dean’s hip bones and dragged Dean down onto the floor again. He could breathe. Breathe in the sweet smell of Dean’s cologne and force the air into all the corners of his lungs. His head was ringing. 

“Do you wanna, like, marry me?” Seth heard himself say.

Dean grinned at him lazily. 

“Maybe,” he said. “How much are you worth?”


End file.
